


The Passionate Perspective

by Just_ask_the_Librarian



Series: The Threadbare Trope Snippets [1]
Category: A Series of Unfortunate Events (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-27
Updated: 2018-07-27
Packaged: 2019-06-17 05:09:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15454020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Just_ask_the_Librarian/pseuds/Just_ask_the_Librarian
Summary: Jacques never takes off his shirt when they make love.





	The Passionate Perspective

**Author's Note:**

> So, here's the first outtake of 'The Threadbare Trope'. This little snippet takes place between chapter 14 and the epilogue. Enjoy!

Jacques never takes off his shirt when they make love. 

It takes a little while before Olivia notices this, three weeks to be exact. The first few times when they’re together she’s too mesmerized and too caught up in being with him, finally being with him after so many months of thinking that he wasn’t interested in her that way for her to realize it.

To be perfectly honest, the first few times she is so overcome by the way he kisses her and touches her and moves in her that she’s utterly unable of concentrating on anything else. 

She has dreamed about what it would be like, during the many lonely, sleepless nights when she still thought their marriage was one only born out of convenience.

Tentative, hazy dreams that she never fully dared to indulge in and always left her feeling flustered and awkward around him the next day.

None of that could have prepared her for what it was really like to be loved by Jacques Snicket. He touches her like she is made out of the most delicate spun glass, his attention completely focussed on her. Every brush of his lips, every caress of his fingers intended at giving her as much pleasure as possible.

And after spending most of her life alone, surrounded only by books and fictional words of love and passion it is rather overwhelming to be loved so fiercely, so at first she barely knows how to respond.

How can she show him how much he means to her? How much she adores him? How would she even go about expressing that physically?   
At first she’d feared that he would think her dull or inexperienced, but the raw expression of complete awe and admiration on his face when they lay snuggled together afterwards has completely assuaged those trepidations.

She had never dreamt love could be like this. That there could be so much tenderness and passion between them. She’s so blissfully happy those first weeks that the notion that something is amiss hadn’t even crossed her mind.

In only occurs to her one night as they are cuddling on the couch. She’s practically sitting in his lap and he has his arms wrapped tightly around her. It’s early December and she’s been feeling cold all day. On instinct she slides her hands underneath his shirt and he momentarily flinches. Moments later he has caught her hands in his and flips her unto her back, kissing her deeply, leading her to distraction.

The next time they are kissing in bed she experimentally moves her hands up across the bare skin of his back and to her surprise he only clutches her tighter, mimicking her actions. Apparently he likes having his back stroked, she registers, but soon after that he unclasps her bra and takes it off, her blouse having been discarded some time ago. He bends down his head to take her nipple into his mouth and for the next half hour or so her minds becomes pleasantly foggy with arousal.

It’s only later that she realizes that she has never actually seen him with his shirt off. He loves to undress her and takes his time with slowly peeling her clothing away one item at the time, worshipping every bit of exposed skin with his lips and tongue.

But she has never seen his bare chest. He never removes his shirt and he always neatly manages to distract her when she does try to ran her hands over him.

And of course, now that she is aware of this she can’t think of anything _except_ his chest and how much she does want to touch him.   
As far as she is concerned, his chest is wonderful. Not that she has a lot of past experience to compare to, but still.

Even with layers of clothing separating them, he is broad and firm and he always feels so warm. She loves to snuggle up against him, letting the sound of his heartbeat lull her to sleep.

He also favors wearing shirts that show the outline of his nipples and the sight of it never fails to make her mouth go dry and her hands shake with the need to toch him.

 

 

* * *

It’s their three week anniversary and they are celebrating with a date night at home. The children are spending the night with Kit, Jacquelyn and Lemony, so they have the house to themselves. Jacques has cooked them a delicious meal and set up a small dining table in the library. 

The setting is lovely and romantic with candlelight and soft music and before long Olivia feels light-headed from the wine, the flirting and the all-consuming feeling of being head over heels in love with her husband.

The plan was to have dessert and do a little dancing, but they never make it that far. All evening Jacques has been gazing at her, his dark eyes almost liquid with love and arousal and by the time the main course is over she simply can’t take it anymore.   
As he stands up to move the dishes away she follows him and twining her arms around his neck, she pulls his head down for a kiss.

He responds immediately, his arms coming up around her to pull her close, his tongue probing teasingly at the seam of her lips. She sighs, allowing him to deepen the kiss as she buries her hands in his thick hair, all thoughts of food and dancing forgotten.

They are already stumbling towards the hallway, arms around each other, lips still fused together when Jacques laughs softly against her lips.

“There’s chocolate mouse in fridge for dessert…”

“We’ll save it for afterwards,” she mumbles, pressing herself closer and at that he laughs out loud.

“Excellent suggestion, Mrs. Snicket!”

Hearing him call her that still makes her knees wobble and a moment later he has swept her up in his arms, making his way towards their bedroom.

Their bedroom. Formerly known as her bedroom, but now a room that they share together.

Once inside, he wastes no time in unzipping her dress and pushing it off her shoulders, letting it unceremoniously fall to the floor. Simultaneously she pushes the jacket he’s wearing down, a thrill of excitement running down her spine as she takes him in wearing only a pair of black jeans and a black, rather tight shirt.

In the past six months he has been working out a lot as part of his convalescence and it’s definitely showing.

Pulling her with him, he walks back until he hits the end of the bed and he sits down with a thud, pulling her on top of him. 

Olivia leans down again to kiss him and he responds with a growl, his mouth hot and feverish against hers.

Impatiently he tugs at the chemise she’s still wearing, trying to get his hands underneath, but getting hopelessly tangled up in the slippery material. 

“Help me get this off?” he pleads, breaking the kiss, his voice sounding rough. “I want to feel your skin.”

And just like that she remembers how very much she wants to feel him too. Carefully dropping her hands to his sides, she tries to hold his gaze.

“Jacques…” Her voice is breathless and a little shaky and she knows her face must be bright red. “I want to touch you too…”

He smiles at that, the lines around his eyes crinkling. “You _are_ touching me…” he answers teasingly, bucking up against her a little, drawing attention to the fact that she is straddling his lap.

Now she _knows_ she is bright red and she tries to find the words to explain to him what she wants. “I want to touch more of you…”

She twists the fabric of his shirt between her nervous fingers, hoping he will take the hint, but he continues to stare at her, looking completely non-plussed.

Gathering her bravery, she gives a little tug at the shirt. “Can I take this off?”

“Oh…” Against her, he tenses, his body becoming rigid and he looks down, all traces of humor gone from his face.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” His voice sounds flat and dejected and now Olivia feels horrible. 

Somehow she has upset him by asking and now the happy, carefree mood between them is gone.

“I’m sorry,” she says frantically, moving her hands back to his shoulders as if she has burned them. “I’m so sorry, Jacques. I didn’t meant to push you or to make you feel uncomfortable…”

“What?” He finally looks up, startled. “Oh no, honey…” Instantly his arms are around her again and he tenderly presses kisses to her eyelids, kissing away the tears that start to form. “You didn’t make me feel comfortable at all…”

Relieved that she hasn’t spoiled the evening completely, Olivia wraps her arms around his neck. “I’m still sorry…” she murmurs. “And if you don’t want me to touch your chest, I won’t, I promise.”

Sighing deeply, he pulls back a little, but not before cupping her face in his hand. Nervous eyes meet hers.

“It’s not that I don’t want you to toch me…” he starts hesitantly. “Because believe me, I _do_ want that… in fact, I think I’d like nothing more… it’s just that… as much as I want to, it won’t be fair to ask you to deal with… well… let’s just say you are hardly going to enjoy it…”

Try as she might, Olivia has no idea what he’s talking about and it must have been written all over her face, because he takes another deep breath.

“After Olaf and his crowbar… it’s not exactly a nice sight anymore… I don’t want to inflict that on you…”

Once he has finished his explanation, he remains very quiet, almost as if he is bracing himself for her reaction.

For long moments, Olivia doesn’t know how how to react to his revaluation, torn between wanting to laugh in relief and wanting to shake him until his teeth rattle for ever thinking that she would be put off by a few scars.

In the end she does neither, but instead kisses him firmly, her hands squeezing his shoulders.

“Jacques Snicket, you’re an idiot!” she informs him afterwards, keeping her hands right where they are.

“You are also dead sexy, and I’ve always thought so!”

Any chance of her face ever regaining its normal color is now well and truly gone, but the surprised grin on Jacques’ face is worth it.

“And nothing will _ever_ make me think differently,” she insists passionately. “I love you and I think you’re the most gorgeous man on the planet and I want to see you… all of you…”

He looks at her as if he wants to eat her alive, his hands gripping her waist tightly.

“Listen,” she continues, her voice gentler. “If you don’t want to, we won’t. That’s fine! But if you’re only holding back because you think I’m going to be one ounce less attracted to you… think again… because that’s _never_ going to happen!”

He plunders her mouth at that, his hands tangling up in her hair and he pulls her so tightly against him that she’s barely able to breath. 

“I love you _so_ much,” he tells her, his eyes moist and his voice hoarse. “You have no idea how much I love you.” 

Leaning back a little, he lets his hands slip from her hair, down to the hem of his shirt.

Wide-eyed and hardly daring to breathe, Olivia watches as he pulls it over his head and discards it to the side.   
When his eyes meet hers again, there’s an equal amount of trust and trepidation in them.

She barely has eyes enough to take him in. To take everything in. His chest is broad and firm, just as she has imagined it, with a a thin line of hair scattered across it. She also notices as few golden freckles across his collarbone and her fingers itch with the need to touch them. His nipples are brown and flat and she wonders if they are as sensitive as she hopes. 

There are also scars on his chest. Thick, ropey lines that still look red and angry. There are several healed cuts all the way down over his ribcage and Olivia can see the silvery lines where the stitches used to be.

Right in the middle of his chest, near his heart is a particular nasty looking gash. It has healed up, but just barely, the scar tissue pink and blotchy. Horror fills her as she realizes how much pain he must have had endured while Olaf and Esmé attacked him.

“You are beautiful.”

There are tears in her voice because he _is_ beautiful. Not despite of the scars, but because of them. Because they are a testimony of the kind of man he is.

His mouth twists and he takes a shaky breath, his gaze uncertain. As if he wants to believe her words but can’t quite bring himself to do so.

“You are,” she insists. “My goodness, Jacques… how did you bear it? And then you came after me and the children straight away… you didn’t even have them treated until afterwards…”

She remembers in how much pain he was when he arrived at Caligari Carnival and it all makes so much sense now.

“You were watching out for our children. You almost died protecting them. I hate that Olaf did this to you, I hate that you got hurt so badly… but these scars aren’t something to hide… because they show me how much you love us…”

By the time she has finished her speech they’re both crying, making their next kiss taste wet and salty.

But she is now pressed against his naked chest and soon Olivia is only all too aware of wonderful new sensations. He’s so warm and his scent, something musky and spicy and ineffably Jacques’ is washing over her.

She’s still clutching his shoulders and his skin feels so smooth.

“Do your scars still hurt?” she asked quietly. “Should I be careful?”

His eyes darken at her question, his pupils dilating. “No, they’re all healed up…”

“Good…” she can feel the grin spreading over her face, a new rush of excitement filling her. Shifting slightly, she looks at him once more to be absolutely certain they both want this.   
“Can I?”

Another sweet, heated kiss is pressed against her lips. “You can do anything you want, my darling.” 

On impulse, she pushes against this shoulders and he falls back on the bed. She is still straddling his upper tights and now she looms over him, having complete access to every bit of his skin.

They’ve never tried this position before and from the way his eyes have now turned completely black with desire, she’s been holding out on him.

Carefully and still a little hesitant she brushes her fingertips over his chest. At the featherlight touch his eyes closes and he groans.

Emboldened by his response she tries a little more, rubbing the palms of her hands over him in slow, circulating motions.

He looks good enough to eat and before she can second-guess herself, she leans in and presses her lips to his warm, smooth skin.

He groans again, throwing his head back, his hands clutching her hips tightly. She continues to pepper his chest with kisses, never shying away from his scars, withoutreally thinking ahead of what she is doing until she reaches one of his nipples. Darting out her tongue she carefully licks, watching in fascination as it immediately shrinks into a tiny, hard nub.

Underneath her Jacques’ response is electric. Olivia thrills at his broken cry and the way his entire body shudders from this small touch.

And she has barely begun. After a few more experimental licks and kisses, she switches to his other nipple, her fingers continuing to stroke the one she has just abandoned.

Beneath her Jacques is shaking, his hands having fallen to the mattress where he clutches the sheets in a desperate attempt to remain still.

A litany of endearments and words of love fall from his lips, intercepted with moans and when she finally pulls back, his brow is glinstering with sweat and she can practically see the steam rising off of him. She leans down a little, letting her hair tickle his chest and he shudders again.

“Olivia…” he manages, breathing heavily.

“You’re gorgeous, Jacques,” she whispers and he is. He’s beautiful and he’s all hers and she can’t believe her luck.

When she kisses him again, her lips gently graze over the most vicious scar, right in the middle of his chest. That particular blow could have killed him, but instead he’s here with her, warm and alive.

Jacques goes completely still as she kisses the outlines of his scar gently, but then his hands move to her tights and he slowly moves them up and down from her knees to her hips.

She continues to kiss and lick her way downwards, towards his stomach, shuffling lower as she goes along. Against her lips she can feel his muscles clench and unclench, his skin flushing wherever she touches him, his body almost arching off the bed.

She kisses around his bellybutton and goes lower still. His skin is saltier here and she darts out her tongue to taste him. She’s not sure how far she wants to take this. She’s read about the things she could do now, fantasized about it even, but this is the first time that she might actually be bold enough to try.

She wants to try at least. She wants him to feel good and to know how much she loves him. Gently nipping at his skin, she’s still summing up the courage when he suddenly moves with the speed of lightening, grabbing her shoulders and rolling them over, pinning her beneath him.

For a terrifying second she is afraid that she has hurt him somehow, but then he captures her mouth in a fierce kiss, his chest heaving as if he has ran a marathon. 

“Please…” he begs against her lips. “Let me be inside you… I need you so much, my darling…” He sounds absolutely wrecked and she feels him hard and hot against her stomach.

“Yes…” she whispers back, squirming underneath him so that she can spread her legs, her hands clutching at his back.

When he’s nestled between her tights, he stills. Leaning on his elbows he looks down on her with a gaze filled with wonder.

Slowly she feels him maneuver a hand between their bodies and then he’s touching her, his fingers stroking that spot that makes her body go limb with pleasure.

He will always take care of her. He will always make sure she’ll reach her peak before he thinks of himself. But with everything they have done do far she is already wound up tightly with arousal and it only takes a few caresses before she can feel herself beginning to uncoil.

“Jacques… please…” she manages and then he is inside her, his forehead pressed against hers, his body covering hers. And still it feels like she isn’t close enough to him, so she wraps her legs around his waist, clinging to him.

They’re so tightly wrapped around each other that he has barely room to trust, but neither of them can bear the thought of putting any distance between them, so instead they rock at a slow, steady pace.

During all of it, he gazes into her eyes, kissing her softly, never once breaking eye-contact.

Olivia has no idea how long they remain like that, the entire world having faded away, but eventually the pressure and the heat inside her become too much and she clutches at his neck as she tips over the edge, Jacques following right behind her, spilling himself into her with a soft groan.

Afterwards he wraps himself around her and pulls the blankets over them, creating a snug cocoon. He’s still caressing her arms and her face, pressing kisses to whatever patch of skin he can reach.

“You are amazing,” he whispers reverently between kisses. “And I love you so much.”

Olivia snuggles against his bare chest, feeling how relaxed and loose his body is now, every last trace of stress gone. There’s a new light in his eyes as well, his look one of unrestrainedhappiness. 

She has never felt closer to him than she does in this moment and her heart sings with how right this is. Pressing a final kiss to his chest, right over his heart she replies softly:

“I love you too.”

 

 

 


End file.
